


Chaos

by yikesola



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2017, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, TATINOF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29173332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikesola/pseuds/yikesola
Summary: This was a terrible idea. And it isn’t the first time either of them has thought of it. Waiting until the actual last possible moment to film something.A fic about procrastination and waiting.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72





	Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> you can blame [keelin](http://ahappydnp.tumblr.com) for this✨

This was a terrible idea. 

And it isn’t the first time either of them has thought of it. Waiting until the actual last possible moment to film something; they did it just last October when they were failing at making cake pops at 2am the night before having to drive to a tour location. And they’re doing it now while failing at baking meringues and dressed in their horrible pastel personas while the clock keeps ticking towards their flight to Australia. 

Only the most important component of the entire Australian leg of TATINOF— making sure they’re in the correct freaking hemisphere— and instead of a final check of their suitcases and passports and phone chargers, they’re here proving the noodly-ness of their arms by whisking egg whites endlessly. 

Dan tries to hide the slowly creeping panic. He knows his poker face is better than it used to be. He also knows it’s his own fault for suggesting they do this today instead of last Tuesday when Phil had wanted to. Dan at the time was a little more focused on ordering Thai food, then on eating Thai food, then complaining to Phil about how he ate too much of the Thai food. These priorities seemed perfectly reasonable until he looked at the clock hanging on the all and saw that another twenty minutes had slipped by. 

“Why does my mind always go to lambing when I put my hand in things?” Phil asks, the piping bag he’s holding already torn. 

Dan has exactly half a second to think it really isn’t fair that Phil is still so hot while wearing that stupid bright blue wig and talking about lambing. Then he scolds him and tries to keep the video moving forward. 

Tries, while still preserving the chaos necessary in a DanAndPhil baking video, and considering the rushed circumstances of an ever-approaching departure time. 

There’s no point in drumming up this chaos if it’s just going to fizzle away, after all. 

*

This was a terrible idea. 

They’re out of breath from running to their gate. It’s the most exercise they’ve had outside of sending Dil to the gym in the Sims in their lives. They’re going to sit on a plane for 23 hours in shirts with soaked pit stains. 

But they make the flight. And Dan can’t hold back a smug little “I told you we’d make it,” when they plop down in their seats. He cranes his neck over the little divider between their first class cubbies— a flight where they aren’t having to fold their limbs up like accordions as they do when visiting the Ilse of Man or back a few years ago when all they were lucky to afford was economy. 

Phil’s head is back against his seat, he’s got a hand on his heart and a flushed face. Dan tries not to think about how long 23 hours is going to feel. 

“Barely,” Phil says between gasps of breath. “ _Barely_ made it!”

“Good enough,” Dan laughs, his eyes still on Phil’s adam’s apple. He’s mastered the art of procrastination. Of packing his suitcase the day of, or filming purely because there isn’t any more time to put it off. He knows the day it doesn’t miraculously turn out alright in the end is going to suck. But that’s future Dan’s problem. He’ll deal with it then. 

Right now he gets the rush of knowing they actually made their flight and that they can edit the video when they’re bored to pieces around hour ten. Right now he’s enjoying the chaos of getting so, so close to fucking up. And then not. 

It’s nice. He’s not one to go skydiving but he does remember jumping off a particularly high cliff in Jamacia a few years back and maybe it’s the same kind of thing. 

The only real shame is that he can’t turn this chaos, this frenzy, this shouldn’t-have-gotten-away-with-it energy where he’d really like to: on Phil. He thinks if they’d had five minutes to spare he would’ve spent it all on his knees, but they really didn’t. The airplane is already backing up from the gate and the flight attendants are giving their safety spiel. 

23 hours is a long time to try to hold onto chaos. Dan thinks about other times when he had to wait one or three or five hours until he could get Phil alone, and all of that had felt torturous. As Phil runs a hand through his sweaty fringe to push it off his forehead, Dan thinks they maybe shouldn’t have procrastinated after all. 

*

This was a terrible idea. 

Phil is asleep and Dan is trying to sleep but instead watches the screen in front of him show a little animated airplane crawling along a green line, still so far from their destination. One foot is asleep and he is afraid to move it because the pins and needles feeling is going to be hell. Maybe he’ll just keep sitting like this until the foot is numb for good. Maybe that’ll be worth it even if he’ll fuck up the choreography to “The Internet is Here” every night. 

His head is bent against the divider between his seat and Phil’s, but soon that divider is sliding down and he lifts his head to see that Phil isn’t asleep anymore. He also isn’t sweaty anymore or wearing that nightmare of a wig anymore, but Dan’s still annoyed by how very not alone they are. Phil looks sleepy and grumpy and it has him pouting; Dan wants to be able to kiss that pout. 

It’s a similar kind of danger to procrastination. 

Different… but a little similar. 

It’s pushing against his self-preservational instincts, deciding no— no, he’d rather have a little fun than do what he knows he ought to be doing. He’d rather talk Phil into filming a baking video than leave early to catch their flight. He’d rather lean forward and kiss Phil like he hasn’t been able to do for hours than live by the very careful rules they’ve made for themselves. 

He doesn’t do it, of course. But he thinks about it. Stares at Phil’s pout and at the dart of his tongue when it licks his lips that start talking. 

Stares so long he doesn’t actually hear what Phil is saying. 

But Phil doesn’t seem to mind. His lips have upturned into a crooked smile. 

The adrenaline of filming, of being _on_ for the camera and attempting a baked good they should’ve never bothered with, of racing to the airport and barely making it in time, it’s fizzled. The chaos has hardened into a lump and it’s sitting heavy in his stomach. 

Like their extended foreplay turned into muted edging. 

Dan is trying not to let all that work go to waste. But they still have another seven hours. 

“Huh?” Dan asks, since he hadn’t been paying attention. 

“Danny,” Phil rolls his eyes, “I asked if you wanna play i-spy.” 

“I hate you,” Dan turns away in his limited seat. It jostles his foot, which is coming back to life and he doesn’t bother hiding the discomfort. 

Phil laughs and pulls out his phone and types something. He hands it to Dan. It’s open to the notes app, and Phil has written _I spy with my little eye someone who is very distracted_

“With your giant blind alien eye, you mean,” Dan says. Phil laughs again. Dan sees Phil’s eyes move across his surely tired face and likes that Phil seems to be just as distracted. 

Eighteen hours ago, Phil had been caressing Dan’s face teasingly with their purple oven grips. 

That’s the closest to satisfaction he’s had all day. Or, well, extended-day. This weird seemingly endless day spent entirely in liminal space. 

It’s driving him mad, and knowing just how tactile Phil is and just how long he can hold onto being riled, he’s sure Phil is also counting down until they have some privacy. The animated airplane one the screen keeps making its meagre progress. 

“Another wine, sir?” Dan hears from the flight attendant he hadn’t noticed approaching him. 

“No thanks,” he says. Another wine and he might do something stupid like crawl into Phil’s seat. If not for the action he’s craving, then for the cuddle he’s also being denied. 

*

This was a great idea. 

Seriously, Dan should convince Phil to procrastinate more often. No more “trying to adult better” or “trying not to stand in their own way” nope, if Dan can help it they’re going to thrive on the very specific brand of chaos that starts with a poorly planned filming and ends with them exhausted and jet lagged and fucked out in their hotel room. The blackout curtains are a lifesaver, he doesn’t have to think about what ungodly hour it must be. He can focus on trying to catch his breath. The getting here was awful but the payoff was so entirely worth it.

Sure, his hand might’ve wandered in the cab ride from the airport. Sure, he might’ve taken advantage of an empty elevator for twenty-some-odd floors to finally pull Phil in for a proper kiss. 

Sure the second the door shut behind them, Phil had grabbed at Dan’s ass and Dan had started fighting with the buttons of Phil’s shirt. They were finally alone, with the time to indulge. Unlike when they had been at home— alone but with no time. Unlike when they had been on the plane— with all the time in the freaking world but nowhere near alone. 

The only energy still fuelling their bodies is the frenzy they’d been carrying all the while. Their kisses taste like a different mint than their usual toothpaste; taste like the travel-sized toothpaste and a little bit sharper. The pristine, almost sterile, hotel room is soon littered with their shoes kicked off near their suitcases and their clothes thrown haphazardly. Their movements are clumsy half out of impatience and half out of exhaustion. The grime of travel and too many hours in the same clothes is ignored when Dan moves his lips to Phil’s bare freckled shoulder. It is all ignored when he kisses down Phil’s chest. It is all ignored as he kneels on an unfamiliar floor and lets himself lean into the unfurled chaos.

They’ve earned it. 

And afterwards, they can worry about showering and eating and sleeping. Afterwards, they can worry about getting to the venue on time. Dan thinks they probably won’t procrastinate. Not so soon after barely getting away with it this time. 

But they’ll be in Australia a good long while, long enough to recover before the next flight they have to catch.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading— come say hi on [tumblr](http://yikesola.tumblr.com/post/642082751740280832/chaos) !


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